


dead girl walking

by nonbinaryluka



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Cunnilingus, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28659618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinaryluka/pseuds/nonbinaryluka
Summary: So, yeah, Marinette is probably going to die tomorrow. She’s been fighting Hawkmoth since she was thirteen, and now she’s an adult. Maybe she should be writing letters, or spending time with her parents, but… there’s only one thing that she wants to do.Well. One person that she wants to do, to be specific.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 8
Kudos: 119





	dead girl walking

**Author's Note:**

> me: loss of virginity fics are overdone and the fascination that most fandoms can have with them can be borderline creepy  
> also me: sooooo mutual first time? yes, no?

Marinette is probably going to die tomorrow.

It’s how it goes in all of the movies, right? Hawkmoth doesn’t just have allies, no, he has an _army._ She’ll make her final stand against him, and her team will stand beside her, but in the end, she’ll be the one to make the final sacrifice. Not newly-engaged Alya and Nino, or self-improving Chloé, or endlessly-endangered Chat Noir. No, it should be - _will be -_ her. Maybe it’ll be a grand, fantastic thing, with explosions and dramatic speeches, or maybe it’ll be quiet, post-battle with nobody around, but no matter what, she has to be prepared.

Sure, there are a billion different ways that tomorrow can play out, and some of them involve her taking the hit in smaller, less fatal ways, and some even involve her getting out scratch-free, but… is it cliché if she says that she just _knows_ that tomorrow’s victory will take something from her? Is it cliché if she knows that everything will change?

So, yeah, Marinette is probably going to die tomorrow. She’s been fighting Hawkmoth since she was _thirteen,_ and now she’s an adult. Maybe she should be writing letters, or spending time with her parents, but… there’s only one thing that she wants to do.

Well. One _person_ that she wants to do, to be specific.

She and Luka have had this weird flirtationship going on for months now. Hell, they’ve liked each other for almost two _years,_ (and he’d liked her for even longer) but up until recently, there had been her feelings for Adrien, and she’d refused to put Luka through that. But lately, every interaction with him has felt like standing over the precipice of something greater, stronger, _better,_ and now -

Now, Marinette has the realization that she might never be able to see it through. All of her daydreams about asking him out or kissing him spontaneously that she’d pushed aside, waiting for the “perfect moment” that might never come, and she only has a handful of hours to do something about it. It’s risky, and there’s a chance that he might turn her away, but… she’ll be okay with that, as long as she gives it a fair chance. She doesn’t want to play with his heart; she just wants to _give him_ a part of herself that won’t die tomorrow.

Maybe it’s stupid and reckless, but Tikki doesn’t tell her not to do it, so Marinette takes that as good enough of a sign as anything. She contemplates sending Luka a text, just to see if he’s awake, but realizes that he’ll probably think that there’s something wrong and start to worry. She doesn’t want him to worry, even though there’s so much to worry about. She just wants him.

Not wanting to drag Tikki into this, she sneaks out through the front door, stepping carefully down the stairs to ensure that her parents stay asleep. Punching in the alarm code so that she doesn’t send the cops straight her way, she slips out into the night, undetected. It’s a bit too cold for just her zip-up sweatshirt, but it’s not too far a walk, especially with no pedestrians or cars out on the streets. After Hawkmoth’s announcement about his plans for tomorrow, Marinette will be surprised if she sees anybody outside instead of huddled indoors with their friends and family.

She makes it to the houseboat in record time, but hesitates once she gets there. He’s probably amongst those who are spending tonight with their families, so it’s not exactly like she can barge in, titties out. Maybe this was a stupid, reckless and just plain _bad_ idea.

 _No,_ she tells herself. _I walked all the way here. I at least need to try._ She pulls out her phone, navigates to her text messages with Luka, and, before she can think it through, smashes out an _are you busy right now?_

After only a few seconds of her staring blankly at the screen, a little checkmark indicates that he has read it, and then that he’s typing out a response. _I’m not busy. Why do you ask?_

Deep breaths. She can do this. It’s just letters on a screen. _i’m outside ur window._

The checkmark pops up, but Luka doesn’t respond. Instead, she watches as his window cracks open, and then his head is popping out. He blinks at her, as if astounded by her existence, but all she can do is smile and wave. His bemusement turns into something softer as he beckons her close. Once she’s close enough to hear his whispers, he says, “I’ll pull you in.”

“Don’t drop me,” she teases, because if he does, she’ll fall right into the Seine. He offers her his hand, and she takes it without thinking. His window is so small and high up that getting inside is a clumsy affair, but she doesn’t fall into the water, so she’ll take her victories where she can get them. His hands are on her waist as he guides her in, holding her close for just a second too long after she’s standing solid on the floor again. When he takes a step back, so does she, if only to give him space in case he doesn’t like what she does next. “Thanks.”

He clears his throat, and she watches his throat as he swallows. His cheeks go red when he realizes what she’s doing, so grants him the mercy of looking back into his eyes. “No problem,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

 _I wasn’t expecting me either._ “I guess that I’m full of surprises,” she replies, quiet. Willing her fingers not to shake, she reaches up to the zipper on her sweatshirt and yanks it down. His eyes follow the movement, though he snaps them back up to her face when she shrugs the sweatshirt off and drapes it over his chair. The shirt that she’s wearing under it is one of her favorites, always soft and warm, but discomfort is a small price to pay, so she only feels a little bummed when she tugs it off.

Luka blushes bright red in a way that she’s never seen him do before. He’s always so calm, easily able to hide his emotions, or to not let issues get to them in the first place. Apparently, looking at her as she’s clad in only a bra and her pajama pants is enough to break that barrier. It feels like a win. “Marinette-”

“I want you,” she interrupts, before he can read into things that aren’t there and deem this too irresponsible to continue. “I like you a _lot,_ and I know that you like me too. And it kind of feels like the world’s ending tomorrow, right? So - so maybe, if you want to, we could spend the night together. It’s okay if you don’t want to, don’t worry. It’s all up to you.”

Luka doesn’t respond to that, but he steps closer to her until they’re almost chest to chest. She’s not really expecting a verbal answer, since she knows that words aren’t exactly his forte, so she watches his movements - is he about to hand her back her sweatshirt and tell her to sleep on the floor? 

He doesn’t do that. Instead, he reaches behind his head to tug off his own t-shirt, doing so in one fluid motion. (Marinette is kind of jealous that he doesn’t have to use the crossed-arms technique. Damn gendered shirt designs.) Then, he’s shirtless in front of her, and she wastes no time in ogling him. She finds that she really, _really_ likes the way that he looks shirtless. He’s skinny, but not in a way that seems like a strong wind would blow him over. He’s fit, to say the least. He does a significant amount of biking, after all.

“Is your family home?” Marinette asks, snapping her eyes from his abs back to his face. She scolds herself internally for being classless, but it falls flat.

“No,” he informs her. In any other circumstance, it might have been exciting. Just the two of them, alone together. But now… now it’s too sad to spend too much time thinking about. “Juleka left to go to Rose’s maybe two hours ago. Mom… I don’t know where she went. I think she might be trying to go track down Hawkmoth and kick his ass.”

She smiles, fond but downcast. “Sounds like her.”

Luka takes a step forward, so close to her that her breath catches in her throat. She tilts her head upwards to maintain eye contact, finding herself frozen in place.

“Marinette,” he says, as though her name is a prayer. He sounds reverent, he sounds _aching,_ and she wishes that she could fix everything. She wishes she could go back in time and take Hawkmoth down before he ever knew he wanted to ruin everything. Before he ever lost whatever it was that made him human.

“Say it again,” she whispers. Her name has never sounded so divine as it does when it comes out of his mouth. She wants to hear it over and over.

“Marinette,” he repeats, and then he kisses her. He tastes like mint, as though he’d brushed his teeth moments before her arrival. When she had imagined what kissing him would be like while walking over, she had imagined it rushed and hard and fast. But the way that Luka kisses her - slowly, as though she is something to be savored and _relished_ \- is so much better. It’s more than she had ever dreamed to hope for. His hand trails from her shoulder and then down her sides, going back and forth in a soothing motion. She has never felt as grounded to anywhere as she does right now. Maybe Luka was always meant to be her rock.

God, she’s such an idiot. Why didn’t she figure this out sooner? She could have been kissing him for the past _two years_! Certainly before she finished terminale, at least. Ugh.

When he breaks away for air, she unintentionally chases his mouth with hers. In the silence, she almost says something reckless, like that she loves him. But she doesn’t want to scare him off - not when he’s so clearly willing to give more than she’s ever asked to take.

“I just want to throw this out here now,” Luka says. “This is already more than I’ve ever thought would happen tonight. If you ever want to stop, no pressure. I’m fine just hanging out.”

“I don’t want to stop,” Marinette replies. The thought is incredibly disappointing, though obviously she wouldn’t air that thought aloud if Luka decided he was going farther than he wanted. “I will tell you if we go too far, but …” She lets the sentence hang there, because there’s no cool way to say that she would go anywhere as long as it was with him.

“Okay,” he says, wringing his hands in front of him. She feels a bit better about the fact that he’s a little nervous, too. “I… I want to, too.”

“Great,” she croaks out, not needing to be in front of a mirror to know that her face must be bright red. She kicks off her shoes, if not just to have something to do with her body, and pushes them out of the way. _Don't trip over those later,_ she tells herself. It would certainly be a mood killer. With a boldness she doesn’t feel, Marinette flops down onto his bed, hair sprawling out on his pillows. She keeps her eyes on Luka, who is looking at her as though it’s for the first time. There’s fondness and something heavier that she cannot identify beneath it.

“You certainly made yourself at home,” he teases.

“Of course I did,” she replies, smiling widely. How could she not, when home is the way that he looks at her? “Now, are you gonna come kiss me again, or…?”

Luka nods and follows her into the bed, kissing her before he has even fully adjusted his position. One of her hands reaches up to clutch at his waist, but the other stays draped across his pillows. He doesn’t let it linger there for long, wrapping his hand that is not holding himself up around hers.

Has she ever felt so safe with another human being? Sure, there’s the familial comfort that comes with growing up, and there’s the platonic warmth that friends like Alya has always brought. But Luka makes her feel secure in an entirely different way. He makes her feel like the world could end right outside their door and she’d never know, because they’d be alright as long as they were together.

It’s an uncomfortably fitting analogy, given the circumstances.

Luka breaks away from the kiss again, this time leaving pecks on her cheeks and forehead when he parts. Marinette giggles, reaching up to do the same to him but he pulls too far away. “Can I go down on you?” he asks, and then blushes right after, almost as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. The concept of him even thinking about it is enough to make her go down the horny thoughts rabbit hole.

 _Hell yeah._ She hadn’t expected him to offer, but it’s certainly better than going straight into something else. “Sure,” Marinette says, fixing him with a reassuring smile. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

“Oh, I’m comfortable,” he says, giving her a lopsided grin. His conviction makes her feel confident in return, so she arches her back off the bed to unhook her bra. She watches him watch her, and pulls the straps off her shoulders. She lets it dangle off the bed and then drops it.

He begins again to pepper kisses on her cheeks, but this time, he gravitates lower. He kisses her cheek, then her chin, then her throat. The kiss against her throat is wildly sensitive, more so than she thought possible, but before she can articulate it, he is moving further downward. 

“You.” A kiss against her shoulder. “Are.” A kiss against her collarbone. “So.” A kiss against her heart, which is beating so harshly she’s sure he can feel it. “Beautiful.” He lands the last kiss on her breast, which results in a shiver coursing through her body.

“You flatter me too much,” she says in return. There's something weird about being complimented so bluntly by him, but she doesn't spend a single moment thinking that he doesn't mean it. Of course he does.

“I’ve never flattered you,” Luka replies, seeming almost upset at the notion. His next words prove her earlier thoughts. “I only say what’s true.”

He lingers his kisses around her chest for a while, before maintaining his overall direction towards her lower body. Her waist, her stomach, her hips - nothing is ignored in his quest to love her so thoroughly, and by the end of it, she finds herself a flustered mess.

 _This was a good idea,_ she thinks, looking back upon her worries before she had texted him. _This was the best decision I’ve made in perhaps a very long time._

When he gets to the waistband of her pajama pants, he taps the hem of them with his fingers. “Can I take these off?” he asks.

_Please, please, please. You could rip them off me if you wanted. Except maybe not, because those are my favorite pair. It'd be hot, though._

“Sure,” she replies, in an attempt to remain casual. “Do you need any help?”

“Just lift your butt for me, angel,” he says, so she does just that. He pulls down her underwear along with her pants, which Marinette counts as a small blessing considering that it’s a pair of granny panties she’s had for a year now. Next time - if she’s ever fortunate enough to get a next time - she’ll wear something a bit cuter.

Luka doesn’t stare, but she feels on display anyways. “Sorry I didn’t shave,” she says. It hadn’t even been a thought in her head at the time, but now she feels as though she's broken some etiquette rule that she doesn't even agree with.

“As if I could ever critique anything about you,” he replies, and she wants to respond with something similarly witty but then his mouth is already on her body. Marinette’s hips jerk off the bed in response. She hadn’t expected it to feel so sensitive like that. Somehow his mouth feels warmer and wetter than it had when she had just simply been kissing him. For the first few moments, he maneuvers his tongue and lips around, but then he gets into a rhythm.

It feels _good._ It feels better than good. It even feels better than when she just rubs her clit herself, though she’s not sure how much of that is just the fact that it’s Luka. She makes little noises without really meaning to, and they increase in volume whenever he hits the right spot. It’s funny - she’d never thought of herself as being someone who’s loud or noisy during sex, especially since all of her masturbation sessions are silent. But here she is, moaning away as if she’s never even touched her own clit before.

Keeping track of time is difficult while he’s eating her out, but she savors every minute anyway. Once or twice, he’ll stay on the most sensitive part of her clit for too long and she’ll move his head to a more appropriate spot, but he seems to pick up the nonverbal cues quickly enough. He’s so good at this that he simply must have done it before, but Marinette doesn’t let herself be jealous for long. He’s twenty and his past sex life is frankly his business. No matter who he’s had sex with in the past, he’s eating _her_ pussy out now. That means more than enough.

Marinette feels tingly like an adrenaline rush, and flushed, too. It’s akin to the warmth in the back of her throat when she sips anything alcoholic, but all over her body. That feeling increases and increases as he continues, until it feels more like _pressure_ than anything else. It’s a feeling she knows well, and she realizes that she should probably warn him.

_Okay, Marinette. It’s time to make words work. You got this._

“L-Luka, I’m, oh, don’t stop, please-”

 _You don’t got this._ Words are hard.

She chances a glance down at Luka, who to her surprise, is looking straight back at her. He has an eyebrow raised, which looks partially concerned and partially _cocky,_ but thankfully he does not stop. Her hips jerk a few more times, but eventually he uses his forearms to pin her hips against the bed.

Hopefully the half-sentence that she’d been able to stammer out had been warning enough, because that ends up being the cherry on top that makes Marinette _lose it._ She shakes so hard that even him pinning her down cannot contain all of the vibrations, but he helps her ride it out anyways. It’s different from the orgasms that she has when she’s alone. Stronger. Usually she can recover pretty quickly, clean up and go to sleep, but this is a whole different ballpark. The tingles remain even after the pulsations have faded, and she feels more sluggish than usual. It’s a body high that she has never really experienced.

“Holy shit,” Marinette wheezes out eventually. She had always heard that nobody comes during their first time. She hadn’t had any expectations about that on the way over, but it’s nice regardless. Maybe it’s because it’s hard to be nervous around Luka for long. He’s comforting like that.

“Holy shit,” Luka agrees, laughing through it. He crawls over and kisses her on the forehead. “You’re enchanting.”

Of course he’s capable of poetic language right after giving her the wildest orgasm of her life. She’s not sure if she’ll be able to say anything that eloquent for the rest of the night. “Do you want me to return the favor?” she asks.

Luka hesitates before deciding on his answer. “No, not like that,” he says. “Well, I mean, um, I have protection, if you want to…”

Hell _yes._ “I’ve never,” she confesses. She hopes that it doesn't change his mind, but she'll understand if it does. “I want to, I _very much want to,_ but you should know that I’ve never.”

“Me neither,” he admits.

“Really?” Marinette has a hard time keeping the astonishment out of her voice. She’d totally made her peace with him not being a virgin before, but there is some comfort in knowing that it’s his first time, too. That way, they’re stumbling down this road together, and he doesn’t have any preconceptions that she may not be able to live up to.

“Is that really a surprise?” he replies with a laugh. “Marinette, I’ve loved you for years. Even before you started to feel the same way about me, I never had any interest in anybody else.”

There it is. The L-word. It shoots out of Luka’s mouth and goes straight into her soul. She hadn’t been expecting him to say it upfront - after all, they’d been dancing around the concept forever. He says it as if it’s easy, as if it’s been lingering at the back of his tongue for way too long.

Does she love him back? She definitely could. It’s not as though she hasn’t almost said the same exact phrase a hundred times tonight. But she’s addled with nerves and arousal and worry for what tomorrow will bring, which means that she isn’t entirely sure how she feels at all. She cares for him something fierce, and could see herself dating him for years and years and years. But is it love? Is it love right _now_ , before they’ve gone on a single date?

“You don’t have to say that back,” Luka says, and he seems embarrassed that he said it in the first place. “I know you like doing things the right way. In the right order.”

“I do,” Marinette agrees. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t. I just want to be sure before I say it.”

“Of course,” he replies, the lack of reciprocation not seeming to bother him in the slightest. He shimmies off the bed, beelining for his nightstand drawer. “Don’t move a muscle. If I knew you were coming- oh, very funny- I would have made them more accessible.”

Marinette laughs at his unintentional pun, and watches as he finds the box of condoms in his drawer. She wonders if he’d been _expecting_ anything with her - not tonight, obviously, but if he’d thought that them having sex was a distant but inevitable concept. Or maybe he just wanted to be prepared, in case she barged down to the houseboat in the middle of the night ready to rumble. Which is exactly what had happened tonight.

So… she’s not complaining. Because if he hadn’t been prepared, she would have been disappointed in herself for not thinking about it either.

Luka hooks his hands around his waistband, ready to tug his pants down, but he hesitates. “I don’t exactly look like a porn star,” he says.

Marinette rolls her eyes. As if it would ever matter. She almost says something eloquent - like, _I’ll love it no matter what, because it’s yours,_ or _I was never expecting that._ In the end, she decides on: “Shut up and fuck me, please.”

The profanity makes his ears tint red. She likes the fact that she has an effect on him. Usually, she feels like the one affected - with her stammering and her gibberish. The relationship that she has with Luka has softened into something that doesn’t make her so awkward anymore. It’s a good thing. It’s a _very_ good thing. She can care for him tremendously and still remain the most composed version of herself. 

Luka pulls down his pants and toes out of them. He has been gentlemanly enough not to ogle her this entire time, but she doesn’t give him the same courtesy. She hasn’t seen many dicks in person, so it’s not like she has much to compare him to, but it seems like it fits him. Which is such a weird thought to have, because of _course_ it fits him, it’s _his,_ that she smiles. He’s also very hard, which for some reason makes her feel very affectionate. He hasn’t asked her to touch him at all, even when he’s like that.

She beckons him closer with two fingers, a nonverbal command that he obeys. “How do you want me?” she asks. Hopefully he won’t ask her to top. She’s not ready to jump that hurdle yet.

“Just the way you are,” he replies, which makes her scoff in embarrassment. He’s such a sap, but he’s _hers,_ at least for the night. “I’d like to use my fingers first, if that’s alright? I’ve heard that it can make it easier.”

Marinette does not verbally admit how impatient she is becoming. “As long as you’ve cut your nails lately,” she jokes, making a show of grabbing his hand and examining them. He plays along, wiggling his fingers as she inspects them. After she’s deemed them sufficient, she lands a kiss on each finger to stamp her approval.

When he enters the first finger, she shuffles around a bit, readjusting to a more comfortable position. She feels the ache of the stretch, but only slightly, and in a few moments the feeling is gone completely. “You can add another one,” she commands.

“Yes, ma’am,” is the reply, and on the next thrust, she feels the other finger. Usually, when she gets herself off, she opts to focus on her clit more so than anything else; this feels good too, though in a different way. She doesn’t think that she would be able to come from this alone, but it’s still quite sensitive. It’s nice, and she imagines that once he’s fucking her, it’ll feel even better.

The thought makes her grow even more impatient. “I’m ready,” she says shortly after. She wiggles her hips at him as he takes his fingers out, a gesture that makes him laugh. He lays a few more kisses on her cheeks and forehead, and then she’s laughing, too. “You’re silly,” she tells him, and imagines that it doesn’t take a genius to hear the affection in her voice.

“ _I’m_ silly?” Luka asks, voice full of joking disbelief. It makes her laugh more. “How am I silly?”

Marinette does not have an answer. She knows that he will not take _you’re so nice to me_ as an answer, and it may develop into a serious conversation about what she deserves. Luka never lets her get away with selling herself short. “You just are,” she says.

“I just _am,_ ” he repeats, still acting as though he is thoroughly baffled, and then reaches down to blow a raspberry against her stomach. She shrieks another laugh, swatting lazily at him but not really wanting him to stop. “Would a silly person do that?”

 _“Yes!_ ”

“Fair enough,” Luka says, conceding his point with grace, and then reaches down to kiss her on the lips once more. The first time that they’d kissed, he’d been careful and rehearsed to such an extent that Marinette is sure he’d been trying to make their first kiss as perfect as possible. This time, he kisses her as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. There’s tongue and spit and they clack their teeth together a few times. Somehow, it’s just as perfect as the first one.

She watches with interest as he rolls the condom on. A part of her files away the mechanics of it for later - maybe it’d be fun to put it on _for_ him, sometime - but then he looks up at her with a soft smile that makes her brain stop working altogether for a few seconds.

It’s not that she isn’t nervous, because she is a little bit. But she knows that Luka would stop the moment she asked him to with no hard feelings. Most of her nerves are about if she’ll do something weird or stupid, but even then, she knows that he would never fault her for any of that. She knows that she'll think about it for weeks after, though.

“Are you ready?” Luka asks. His voice has taken a deeper quality, and she wonders if he’s just as impatient as she is. Not that he'd ever admit it.

She’s sure that she’ll appreciate all of the consent check-ins later, but damn, this boy is just too _nice._ Can’t he tell that she wants him inside her, like, _yesterday_? “Yeah,” she confirms, for his sake. “Just, uh, go slow, please.”

Something about the word _please_ makes Luka fumble, but he follows her instructions regardless. He takes a few moments to find the right position, and then he pushes himself into her slowly.

Huh. She’d expected it to hurt more, honestly. She’s one of the last of her friends to lose her virginity, and they usually speak of a few minutes of uncomfortable adjustment. Maybe it’s the fact that she has already gotten her rocks off, or Luka was right and fingering first _does_ make it easier, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. Sure, the feeling isn’t too _comfortable,_ but it’s definitely bearable. She supposes that _bearable_ is not a word she wants to use to describe her sex life going forward, but for the first few moments of her first time ever, it’s more than she’d expected. 

“Are you okay?” Luka asks after a few seconds with no reaction, stopping his movements entirely.

“Yes,” Marinette says, nodding. She feels bad that she'd worried him, but at her answer, he keeps going. The discomfort is already almost already gone, replaced with the same sensitive feeling that she’d had when he’d been fingering her, but expanded into something hotter and brighter. She reaches down and rubs her clit a few times, if not just to keep the momentum going. However, when she pulls her hand away, Luka raises his hand in protest.

“If you want, maybe you could keep going,” he suggests. He seems to be feeling less awkward now - he’s getting better about not blushing and stuttering through every comment about sex. She had thought that _she_ would be the one doing that, going in. “I want you to have fun.”

“I am having fun,” Marinette protests, but she certainly isn’t going to argue when the suggestion is so clearly in her favor, so she reaches her hand back down. Even though she’s touching herself, it feels different than when she does it alone. When she masturbates, it’s fast and with the intent of getting off quickly and quietly, but she doesn’t have to worry about that now. She doesn’t even mind if she comes or not, especially when this is already suiting up to be a lovely night.

He straightens his posture so that she has room to move her hand, which she takes advantage of by quickening her motions. “What about you? Are you doing good?” she asks, realizing that for all the times that he’s checked in on her, she barely has given him the same chivalry.

“I’m more than good,” he says, and he sounds out of breath. “You feel-”

He never finishes that sentence, but Marinette can’t bring it in herself to get an answer out of him. She wonders how coherent it would be, anyway. Luka is a quiet person by nature, so it doesn’t surprise her that he’s not the most verbose person during sex, either. Words of encouragement are simply unnecessary when everything about his body language shows how much he’s enjoying it. The sweat on his brow and the red flush that has not quite gone away the whole evening are more than enough to reassure her. If she's being blunt, she can also quite literally feel how much he wants her.

She feels the orgasm building much more quickly than she had expected. When he’d eaten her out, it had been slow, and she’d wondered multiple times if stopping him before the moment was ruined would be best. (Thankfully, she hadn’t.) But getting herself off is something she knows well, so even when an orgasm isn’t her goal, she can get there soon anyway.

“Luka,” she says, wondering if it would be polite to stop, considering that he still hasn’t come once. But he nods jerkily, as if he knows the question that she has not yet asked, so she keeps going.

She comes with his name on her lips like an oath. The sensation of coming around his dick is a new one, but she finds that she likes it. It’s not as intense as the first, but it still makes her twitch so hard that her knee bonks harshly into his hip. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, completely breathless. She really hopes that it won’t bruise him. Somehow, her right arm has gone completely numb, even though that usually doesn’t happen when she goes it alone. It’s fun - realizing all the differences between sex and masturbation. Both are good, but she likes discovering all the new stuff.

He makes a sound that’s barely human, and mumbles _it’s fine_ so quietly that she can barely hear it. His thrusts are becoming more ragged now, instead of the perfectly balanced and rhythmic motions that he had been making before. Now that her hand is no longer on her clit, he drops so that his body is more parallel to hers. She finds herself looking into his eyes - the eye contact now is more intense than anything, but she fights the urge to close her eyes or look away. Not when he’s looking at her as though she’s an angel - as though she has come down from heaven to personally save him from purgatory.

Luka is so wonderful, and now that she’s not keeping her feelings for him under lock and key, it’s all she can think about. He’s intelligent, kind, and now she’s learning that he’s an incredibly considerate lover as well. He’s not perfect, of course, but they balance each other out so well that she feels as though he’s the perfect person for her to fall for. 

If they win tomorrow, she’ll tell him that she loves him. Fuck propriety. Fuck “the right order.” She does love him, doesn’t she? Why does it matter if it’s before they go on a date first, as long as it’s true? Marinette is going to fight like hell tomorrow no matter what, but now that she knows for sure that she has him to go back home to… maybe it’ll make it easier.

“Marinette,” Luka says, startling her out of her thoughts. He looks positively wrecked, and she allows herself to feel very smug about that fact. “Marinette, I’m gonna-”

Once it becomes clear that he’s not going to finish the sentence, she nods. It’s a good thing that they’ve been learning each other’s nonverbal cues for years now, or else this whole experience might have been a bit more confusing and abrupt. “Yeah, go for it,” she says.

He thrusts a few more times before eventually stilling his movements. He offers her a weak smile before pressing his body against hers, burying his face into the crook of her neck. Once his movements have ceased, she vaguely feels the pulsations inside of her. One of them in particular hits her in a sensitive spot, making her jolt at the sensation.

“Sorry,” he says in response, though he does not sound very sorry at all. She hums, too content to formulate any complete sentences. He’s kind of squishing her, but she refuses to tell him that. He’ll spring upwards, apologizing profusely, and she’ll miss the warmth of his body on top of hers. It's just not worth it.

Luka kisses the side of her face, so she kisses the sweaty locks of his hair that she can reach. There’s something to be said about the calmness in the aftermath. As fun as everything has been, this is so lovely too. He pulls out a few moments later, shifting off the bed to throw the condom away. “Cuddles in a second,” he says, holding up his hand as if to tell her to stay in place. Not for the first time this evening, Marinette does just that, wrapping herself in blankets and waiting for his return.

He tosses it in the trash and rushes back to bed so fast it's comical, wiggling into place next to her. She reaches an arm around his torso, snuggling her head into his chest. She should probably go pee soon, to avoid UTIs and all that, but… Luka is warm and soft and pretty and she just likes him so much. She’ll do it soon, but not now.

“Sorry if that was quicker than you expected,” Luka says eventually, after a few quiet minutes of snuggles. Marinette turns to look at him, propping her chin up so that she can look at him closely. It’s a loaded statement, so she spends a moment or two debating how to respond.

“I had fun,” she says eventually, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “I didn’t feel like it was too quick, and even if it was to ever happen, I wouldn’t mind. You care enough to make sure that I’m having fun, after all.”

Luka smiles, a small and soft thing that has always been reserved just for her. “Jeez, Mari, already talking about next time? Calm down.” She’s sure that he means it to be teasing, but his tone betrays him. The affection pours out in waves, kissing her heart and trickling all the way down to her toes. She can’t even bring herself to be jokingly upset with him, not when he cares for her so loudly.

“Well, I certainly want there to be,” she says, feeling as though it’s a bit too late to be coy now. “To be honest, I don’t know if there will be a Paris to come back to after tomorrow. But if there is, sign me up for another round.” She’s spent the evening pretending that the world outside isn’t still turning. In a handful of hours, Hawkmoth will try to ruin what she's been working so hard to protect for _years_. But now, in the quiet, it’s hard to keep her brain turned off.

“I don’t know why you think the world is ending,” Luka says, but he doesn’t sound harsh or condescending. He sounds genuine, as though she's a jigsaw puzzle that he's trying to crack. “I have faith in Ladybug. I always have.”

For a moment, she considers telling him everything. She’s been the Guardian for so long that it’s not like she’d be breaking anyone’s rule but her own. But she knows that he has his miraculous stashed in his sock drawer, and she doesn’t want him to have a hard time focusing if he knows that the girl he's just had sex with is right next to him. She’s had years to grow used to fighting with those she loves and pushing aside her worry for their safety, but it would be new to him. It could quite literally kill one of them.

“Ladybug is just a woman,” Marinette says eventually.

“I know,” Luka replies, with such conviction that she almost wonders if he knows about her identity anyway. If there’s even a chance that he doesn’t, she won’t be the one to tell him. “But she’s an extraordinary one.”

“Perhaps."

Luka straightens out his posture, as if he's gotten an idea. He looks down at her with a self-assured smile. “In fact, I have so much faith in Ladybug that I’m asking you on a date. Coffee, you and me. Let’s settle for Wednesday afternoon, yeah? I’m sure that all the shops that close tomorrow will be open long before then.”

He must know. Is she stupid for ever thinking otherwise? After all the times he’s fought by her side?

Marinette has her doubts that the carnage Hawkmoth wreaks will _ever_ be fixed, much less four days from now. But Luka speaks with such honesty that she almost believes him. So when she opens her mouth to respond, she lets herself pretend.

“It’s a date.”


End file.
